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Time of India
6 days ago
- General
- Time of India
Is World War 3 near? Meet hypnotherapist Nicolas Aujula whose 2025 warning sparks fear — know what his past predictions reveal
In times of global uncertainty, attention often turns to renowned psychics and astrologers known for their accurate past predictions. One of the most famous is blind mystic Baba Vanga, whose visions have captivated the world for decades. Now, a new name is drawing growing interest—Nicolas Aujula, a psychic and hypnotherapist from the United Kingdom. His predictions for 2025 have sparked widespread debate, particularly due to their striking alignment with recent global developments. As many search for meaning amid instability, Aujula's visions—like those of Baba Vanga—are becoming a focal point in conversations about what the future may hold. Who Is Nicolas Aujula Nicolas Aujula, a 38-year-old hypnotherapist and spiritual guide from London, has gained global attention for his eerily accurate predictions, earning coverage in major outlets. Unlike analysts who rely on data, Aujula claims his forecasts are rooted purely in intuition and spiritual insight. Among his most alarming recent predictions is the possibility of a global conflict erupting around mid-2025. He attributes this looming crisis not to political tensions or military buildups, but to a widespread "lack of compassion in the world," highlighting the emotional and ethical decline he believes is driving humanity toward war. by Taboola by Taboola Sponsored Links Sponsored Links Promoted Links Promoted Links You May Like Giao dịch vàng CFDs với sàn môi giới tin cậy IC Markets Tìm hiểu thêm Undo Nicolas Aujula alarming 2025 prediction Aujula's visions predict "horrendous acts of human wickedness and violence" inspired by nationalism and religion, and the potential for World War III to break out by mid-year . In his view, the UK will not be insulated from the war as the current war events which have raised global tension levels, validates Aujula's prophecies. Nicolas Aujula previous predictions that came true Nicolas Aujula's past predictions have been making headlines for their accuracy. Most notably, he had predicted Donald Trump's political return to power in 2024, a turn of events that became a reality as expected. He also predicted the increasing prominence of Artificial Intelligence (AI), which is now omnipresent in daily life. His record includes his early foresight of the COVID-19 pandemic, the fire at the Notre-Dame Cathedral, and the Black Lives Matter protests. Due to this, his recent prophecies are being seriously considered by many. Recent events that validate Nicolas Aujula vision The recent case in Moscow where Russian Lieutenant General Yaroslav Moskalik was assassinated in a car bombing has increased the tensions, with British intelligence being accused in Russian media. This geopolitical tension falls ominously in line with Aujula's warning messages regarding increasing global hostility. Other 2025 predictions Apart from war and bloodshed, Aujula sees major natural disasters hitting different regions of the world and outbreaks of new pandemics—following the trend of new COVID-19 strains. He also warns of accelerated climate change effects. Politically, he foresees the fall of British Prime Minister Keir Starmer with an inflation boom around the globe. During this turbulence, he sees the reconciliation of Britain's Prince William and Prince Harry. In the United States, he predicts Donald Trump will have a great year despite legal and media setbacks, along with a revival of conservative values. He also sees medical advancements, especially in lab-grown organ research. Why Nicolas Aujula's predictions matter Nicolas Aujula's rising credibility stems from his track record of accurate predictions across global politics, social movements, and technological advancements. Over the years, he has correctly forecasted major events, earning attention and trust from a worldwide audience. As a result, his warnings for 2025 are being taken more seriously than ever before. People across the globe now monitor his forecasts closely, believing that past accuracy may signal future truth. Whether he speaks on upheavals, breakthroughs, or global shifts, Aujula's reputation as a modern-day prophet continues to grow—making his latest insights a focal point of public interest and media speculation.
The Print
02-06-2025
- The Print
Planning a Trip to Vietnam? Here's An Itinerary You Can't Miss
The length of your stay will influence how much you can explore. Here's a rough idea: : Check visa guidelines on the official Vietnamese immigration website : Vietnamese is the official language, but English is spoken in major tourist areas : March to April and September to November Before you book flights or accommodation, get a feel for the country and its regions. Vietnam is long and narrow, with distinct cultures, climates, and experiences in the north, central, and south. Planning a trip to Vietnam can be incredibly exciting, but without a well-structured itinerary, it may become overwhelming. From the bustling streets of Ho Chi Minh City to the tranquil beauty of Ha Long Bay, there's a lot to explore. This guide will help you create a balanced itinerary that ensures you see the best of Vietnam while leaving room for flexibility and spontaneity. 5–7 days : Choose either the north, central, or south 10–14 days : Cover two regions comfortably More than 15 days : Explore all three regions at a relaxed pace More days allow you to slow down, discover hidden gems, try local food, and enjoy less-explored places. Choose Your Entry and Exit Points Major international airports are located in Hanoi (North), Da Nang (Central), and Ho Chi Minh City (South). Depending on your itinerary: North to South Route : Land in Hanoi, depart from Ho Chi Minh City South to North Route : Start in Ho Chi Minh City and end in Hanoi Alternative Option : Enter and exit from the same city if flights are more economical Sample Itinerary for 14 Days in Vietnam Here's a sample that balances culture, nature, food, and relaxation. Day 1–3: Hanoi Explore the Old Quarter and its maze-like streets Visit the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum and Presidential Palace Watch a traditional water puppet show Try egg coffee and bún chả Day 4–5: Ha Long Bay Book an overnight cruise Go kayaking, explore caves, and enjoy fresh seafood Join a cooking demonstration on board Day 6–7: Ninh Binh or Sapa Ninh Binh : Visit Tràng An for a boat ride through limestone caves Climb the steps at Hang Múa for panoramic views Sapa : Trek through rice terraces and stay in a homestay Interact with ethnic minority communities Day 8–10: Hoi An (via Da Nang) Stroll around the lantern-lit Ancient Town (UNESCO site) Visit the Japanese Covered Bridge and local art galleries Take a Vietnamese cooking class Day 11–13: Ho Chi Minh City Explore French colonial landmarks like Notre-Dame Cathedral Visit the War Remnants Museum and Củ Chi Tunnels Try local dishes like bánh xèo and hủ tiếu Explore the nightlife in District 1 Day 14: Mekong Delta Day Trip Take a boat tour through narrow canals and coconut groves Visit local workshops and floating markets Enjoy a traditional lunch in a local home Plan Local Travel Smartly Flights : Quick and convenient for long distances (e.g., Hanoi to Da Nang) Trains : The Reunification Express offers a scenic way to travel Sleeper Buses : Affordable and common for intercity travel Ride Apps : Use ride-hailing apps instead of flagging down random taxis Always check the current transportation schedules and book in advance during peak seasons. Book Accommodation Based On Location Homestays : Great for local interaction and cultural immersion Boutique Hotels : Offer comfort and aesthetics within budget Budget Hostels : Ideal for backpackers or solo travellers Don't Forget Your Travel Essentials Being prepared will make your trip smoother and safer. Carry multiple photocopies of your passport and visa Keep a small medicine kit handy Get necessary vaccinations based on health recommendations Bring a power bank, plug adapters, and a reusable water bottle Why You Shouldn't Skip Travel Insurance When travelling internationally, especially to a country with a different healthcare system, international travel insurance is essential. It covers emergency medical expenses, trip cancellations, lost baggage, or misplaced passports. Specifically, obtaining travel insurance for Vietnam ensures financial protection against unexpected illnesses, accidents, or other disruptions during your trip. Most policies also provide emergency evacuation and 24/7 support services, offering peace of mind while you explore. Be Mindful Of Cultural Etiquette Respect local customs and behave responsibly while travelling. Dress modestly when visiting temples and religious places Remove shoes before entering homes and sacred spaces Use both hands when giving or receiving money or gifts Learn a few Vietnamese phrases like 'Xin chào' (Hello) and 'Cảm ơn' (Thank you) Designing your Vietnam itinerary doesn't have to be stressful. A little planning, combined with some flexibility, goes a long way. Ensure you have all essential documents, pre-book your accommodations and activities, and don't forget to purchase international travel insurance. Vietnam is diverse, rich in history, and full of friendly faces. Whether you're drawn to nature, history, or cuisine—or are just looking to unwind—it offers something for every traveller. With travel insurance for Vietnam, you can explore worry-free and make the most of your adventure. ThePrint BrandIt content is a paid-for, sponsored article. Journalists of ThePrint are not involved in reporting or writing it.
Sydney Morning Herald
25-04-2025
- Politics
- Sydney Morning Herald
The hunted and haunted outcasts who changed their new country forever
Adrift in a round bamboo basket somewhere in the Gulf of Thailand, Tuong Quang Luu peered through the squall and spied whales breaching in the distance. In the breaks between the tropical rains of May, he noticed the seabirds were getting larger and flying higher; even to the untrained eye, this was a sign they were far from land. One way or another, there was no going back to Vietnam. 'We would perish or survive.' Four Thai fishing trawlers passed the little boat that was never meant to stray far from shore and ignored their pleas for rescue. The fifth stopped to scoop them up. 'I was a diplomat, not a fisherman,' Luu says now from his home in Sydney. 'So it was scary but, luckily, I survived the hazards of that trip.' For Luu, those hazards involved a close encounter with a vessel manned by communist forces and being put to work with the crew in rough seas. For an estimated 2 million others who fled Vietnam after the Fall of Saigon on April 30, 1975, the collapse of the South Vietnamese government, and the end of a war that had killed millions and pitted empires and neighbours against each other, there were greater perils. An estimated 500,000 refugees died in the years of exodus that followed; shot by coast guards or pirates, robbed, raped, thrown overboard after starving or dying of thirst, or lost at sea. More than 150,000 made their way to Australia, a wave of migration that has forever changed society. Luu declined the offer of an easier escape. Having been an envoy in Canberra, where most of his family were safe, he was friendly with the Australian diplomats. There was a seat with his name on it on the Hercules that took the ambassador away when the Saigon embassy was abandoned on Anzac Day 1975. Instead, Luu stayed. He was the last senior diplomat left standing in the southern government's ministry of foreign affairs 'because my bosses had already left the country'. The former president, Nguyen Van Thieu, decamped for Taipei with an exit visa that Luu stamped after being roused from his sleep. On the morning of April 30, soldiers were ordered to stop fighting and the North Vietnamese Army swept in and declared the country liberated and reunited. Luu walked the Rue Catinat and took in the French colonial sights such as the Notre-Dame Cathedral before seeing the National Liberation Front's advance party. He moved a few hundred metres west to watch as the North Vietnamese forces in Russian and Chinese tanks tore down the gate of the presidential Independence Palace and hoisted their flag. He shed his jacket and tie and retraced his steps to the Caravelle Hotel, long a melting pot of diplomats and correspondents that had housed the Australian embassy on the seventh floor. 'The saddest thing for me to see was the elite of the South Vietnamese forces, the marines, walk up the street without weapons,' Luu, 84, recalls. 'That was very disheartening, very sad.' He and his father-in-law fled Saigon on a motorcycle. By that evening they had lied their way through a checkpoint and had started a week of hiding in the Mekong Delta disguised in 'black pyjamas', the peasant outfit adopted by the Viet Cong. As the enemy's grip tightened, they decided the bamboo boat was worth the risk. They gather on Thursdays for a stretch of yoga, a cuppa and cake, and a good old-fashioned natter. The business of the day may be a talk about bowel screening, dance practice or planning an excursion to the zoo, but something deeper binds the Vietnamese Women's Association. On the outside there may be smiles, yoga instructor Jennifer McFarland explains when asked about the lasting effects of the war, but pain lingers inside. The women speak of losing loved ones in war, of being separated from family members, of uprooting their lives and of terrifying journeys that seemed preferable to a brutal life under communist rule. Of husbands, fathers and brothers asked to report to authorities for 10 days only to disappear into prison for years and returned on the brink of death. Of possessions and money taken. Of knowing they might encounter rape or death at sea. Instead, the boat Le Pham was on with 157 others encountered pirates – three times. The first stole all their goods. The second tried to steal more. The third, frustrated, rammed their boat so they would sink and die. Everyone on board had had enough. They fought back and overwhelmed their assailants, seizing the attacking vessel. They sailed into Darwin famous as the refugees who beat the pirates. 'We had to stand up and fight, or we would all die,' Pham says. 'We threw them in the sea.' Outside the Cabravale Senior Citizens Centre, corflutes for Dai Le and Tu Le compete for attention, and a stall selling bahn mi and Vietnamese coffee prepares for lunch. Only a block away is the hustle of Cabramatta market. 'Pho has become part of the national dish,' declares Diana Nguyen, a Melbourne-born actor, comedian and writer who explores her heritage and the influence of the Vietnamese on Australian society. 'We've got too many doctors and pharmacists!' Loading Before the Fall of Saigon, fewer than 2000 people of Vietnamese descent lived in Australia. Today, the number exceeds 300,000 and Vietnamese is the fourth most commonly spoken language. A spokesperson for the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade said 'deep people-to-people links' supported relations between Australia and Vietnam; the Whitlam government formally established relations with the communist north in 1973 in parallel to the diplomatic mission in the south. 'The Australia-Vietnam relationship has never been stronger,' the spokesperson said. 'Vietnam is one of the fastest-growing economies in the region and a major hub for manufacturing and investment. It is an active player in regional and global affairs, and a key partner for Australia.' The Bishop of Parramatta, Vincent Long Van Nguyen, says Vietnam today is a long way from an inclusive and just society and this worries members of the diaspora. Haunted by memories of the Tet Offensive in 1968, he recalls his family bundling everything up and fleeing their home north of Saigon in 1975. 'We left our country of birth, but we still have a stake, an interest in the kind of society it is shaping up to be, and unfortunately, for me, Vietnam is still divided,' he said. After his brief stint on the fishing vessel, Luu was detained at the home of the trawler captain near the Thai port of Samut Sakhon. Within a week, he had talked a policeman into taking him to Bangkok and finding the nearest telex machine. 'I sent a cable … I said, 'I survived, and I'm in Thailand.'' Luu flew to Sydney and after reuniting with his family was invited to Parliament House for tea with Kim Beazley snr, then the education minister. 'The first words that he said to me will stay with me forever,' Luu says. 'He shook my hand and said, 'Quang, welcome home.' It's so moving. I was then a refugee, not a diplomat any more.' The Fraser government reversed the Whitlam-era policy of not accepting Vietnamese refugees, and an era of multiculturalism began. A long-time advocate for refugee rights and for 16 years the head of SBS radio, Luu is proud that his adopted country has accepted him but credits the success of multiculturalism to those who worked hard to fit in. 'Had the Vietnamese settlement failed then I would not think that multiculturalism would have continued,' Luu says. 'The fact that multiculturalism was strengthened was because of the successful settlement of Vietnamese in Australia.' Al Chi Hoang has not been back to Vietnam in the 42 years since he fled, but it has never left him. Family members born in the north were killed as they fled south in 1954 when the country was torn in two. Later he was drafted into the Army of the Republic of Vietnam for 'the most controversial war in the last century'. At 19, dreams of honing his English skills and becoming a teacher were on hold, and he was taught to be an officer. Australian troops were withdrawing in 1972, just as Hoang graduated as a second lieutenant and was choppered into a 66-day siege at An Loc. One night he was shot in the leg. He later received a wound to the stomach. 'That's the reason why I lived,' he figures, as he was given rare permission to be evacuated from the front. 'If I stayed back I'm not sure I'd be able to talk to you now.' By April 1975, he was leading a platoon about 50 kilometres outside Saigon and preparing for his next job at the military language school: 'We did not think we were going to lose.' On April 30, he inspected the troops and went about the day as usual until he received a call shortly after noon from the bodyguard of his commanding general. The general was among several who killed themselves as the southern capital had been overrun. Hoang and his men tried to fight on and, with their wives, took refuge in a Catholic Church overnight. As they prepared for battle the following day, a young priest intervened: 'Listen, lieutenant, they've all surrendered.' The platoon members discarded their uniforms and went their own ways. Hoang walked about 30 kilometres south to the home of his aunt, who had become rich supplying bars but whose fortunes changed dramatically under communist rule. 'It was terrible, no life. They controlled everything.' Unable to escape, Hoang spent the next seven years rotating through re-education camps including a total of two years in solitary confinement. 'And I challenged them: 'If you are doing good then you don't have to educate me.'' He never stopped arguing, even as his weight plunged to about 40 kilograms and his two daily spoonfuls of rice included pebbles. His ordeal came to a sudden end when the Reagan administration reached a deal to resettle up to 100,000 prisoners. He was released in August 1982, slipped supervision and made his way by boat to a camp in Malaysia. Seven months there gave him 'a lot of time to think'. He thought of the parents and siblings and nephews killed, not only in the war but at sea trying to escape; a sister had made it to Australia and a nephew was born in Singapore. He thought of how, in the chaos before the collapse, a girlfriend had taken him to a fortune-teller who said he would achieve his dream 'in a very far, very distant place in your midlife'. He thought of how the US had abandoned South Vietnam and his fellow soldiers. He admits he was bitter. 'I didn't hate them, I never hated them, but I thought the way they handled Vietnam was wrong, definitely wrong,' he says. 'I thought they knew that too, but whether they learnt their lesson or not I'm not sure: under Trump I don't know.' He was determined to reach Australia. When he saw a US officer processing refugees, he made sure his papers were stamped 'denied' so he could reach the country of his choice. Salty winter air greeted him at the Endeavour hostel in South Coogee in July 1983. A single man with English skills, he picked up odd jobs. One day, while absorbed in The Sydney Morning Herald, a colleague suggested he should return to study. He finished law school and became a solicitor as he neared 50; it coincided with the need for an operation. 'Even my wife said, 'You're nearly finished.'' Now aged 'towards 73' and surrounded by the evidence of the life he built – piles of work, books on the war, mementos of travel and the toys and debris that come with a grandchild – Hoang skips quickly from subject to subject as if lingering on one thought is too difficult. He does emphasise a desire for democracy in Vietnam, saying it is why he has never returned. 'We always choose freedom.' Diana Nguyen grew up as cultures clashed. Born in Melbourne in 1985, she is the eldest daughter of refugees who met at the Enterprise hostel in Springvale. In primary school she witnessed the drug epidemic that gripped the Vietnamese Australian community. At nine, her parents split, and she was roped into helping raise her younger sisters. As a teenager, she was on the receiving end of disappointment and anger from her mother, Huong. 'How dare you not listen to me, I came here by boat,' was a common complaint by Huong, who was not alone in having difficulty adjusting to Australian life. Bishop Vincent describes his 16 months in a Malaysian refugee camp as traumatic and says beginning a new life in a strange country was harrowing. 'You came totally unprepared and in a state of extreme vulnerability, if you like, with no family network, no preparation, training, economic means etc,' he said. 'Plus Australia was not yet as ethnically diverse as it is today. I think we came in the shadow of the White Australia policy.' It was in Vietnam on a family holiday, when Diana Nguyen was in her mid-twenties, that mother and daughter began to better understand each other. They were packing to leave My Tho, in the Mekong Delta, when Huong opened up about her decision to flee. During the war, Huong was on the ground as a social worker with the United Nations, an educated woman who understood freedom. She knew there was a better life to be had and took to the sea even knowing there was privation and the risk of death ahead. Diana reflects: 'I felt like, 'Wow, mum, why didn't you tell me this earlier, in my teenage years, so I wasn't a shit teenager?'' She laughs that she continues to fall short of her mother's expectation that 'I should get a nine-to-five job so that I can have a child', but she is much more forgiving after realising her mother's sacrifices and struggles. 'I can't fault my mum for loving the way she did.' Loading She and her two sisters recorded their mother's story properly, filming the kind of oral history the Vietnamese Museum of Australia will seek to preserve when it opens in Melbourne's west. At the museum's groundbreaking ceremony last month, she was struck by the diversity of faces in the crowd. 'We are Australian, we are Vietnamese Australian, we are no longer the outsider. Unfortunately, any cohort or group that comes to Australia is classified as the outsider until they've done the hard yards. I think we've done the hard yards and we are absolutely in the psyche now, we're inside,' she says. 'I'm just very excited for the future and the next generation of Vietnamese Australians who are going to make their mark on this world.'
The Age
25-04-2025
- Politics
- The Age
The hunted and haunted outcasts who changed their new country forever
Adrift in a round bamboo basket somewhere in the Gulf of Thailand, Tuong Quang Luu peered through the squall and spied whales breaching in the distance. In the breaks between the tropical rains of May, he noticed the seabirds were getting larger and flying higher; even to the untrained eye, this was a sign they were far from land. One way or another, there was no going back to Vietnam. 'We would perish or survive.' Four Thai fishing trawlers passed the little boat that was never meant to stray far from shore and ignored their pleas for rescue. The fifth stopped to scoop them up. 'I was a diplomat, not a fisherman,' Luu says now from his home in Sydney. 'So it was scary but, luckily, I survived the hazards of that trip.' For Luu, those hazards involved a close encounter with a vessel manned by communist forces and being put to work with the crew in rough seas. For an estimated 2 million others who fled Vietnam after the Fall of Saigon on April 30, 1975, the collapse of the South Vietnamese government, and the end of a war that had killed millions and pitted empires and neighbours against each other, there were greater perils. An estimated 500,000 refugees died in the years of exodus that followed; shot by coast guards or pirates, robbed, raped, thrown overboard after starving or dying of thirst, or lost at sea. More than 150,000 made their way to Australia, a wave of migration that has forever changed society. Luu declined the offer of an easier escape. Having been an envoy in Canberra, where most of his family were safe, he was friendly with the Australian diplomats. There was a seat with his name on it on the Hercules that took the ambassador away when the Saigon embassy was abandoned on Anzac Day 1975. Instead, Luu stayed. He was the last senior diplomat left standing in the southern government's ministry of foreign affairs 'because my bosses had already left the country'. The former president, Nguyen Van Thieu, decamped for Taipei with an exit visa that Luu stamped after being roused from his sleep. On the morning of April 30, soldiers were ordered to stop fighting and the North Vietnamese Army swept in and declared the country liberated and reunited. Luu walked the Rue Catinat and took in the French colonial sights such as the Notre-Dame Cathedral before seeing the National Liberation Front's advance party. He moved a few hundred metres west to watch as the North Vietnamese forces in Russian and Chinese tanks tore down the gate of the presidential Independence Palace and hoisted their flag. He shed his jacket and tie and retraced his steps to the Caravelle Hotel, long a melting pot of diplomats and correspondents that had housed the Australian embassy on the seventh floor. 'The saddest thing for me to see was the elite of the South Vietnamese forces, the marines, walk up the street without weapons,' Luu, 84, recalls. 'That was very disheartening, very sad.' He and his father-in-law fled Saigon on a motorcycle. By that evening they had lied their way through a checkpoint and had started a week of hiding in the Mekong Delta disguised in 'black pyjamas', the peasant outfit adopted by the Viet Cong. As the enemy's grip tightened, they decided the bamboo boat was worth the risk. They gather on Thursdays for a stretch of yoga, a cuppa and cake, and a good old-fashioned natter. The business of the day may be a talk about bowel screening, dance practice or planning an excursion to the zoo, but something deeper binds the Vietnamese Women's Association. On the outside there may be smiles, yoga instructor Jennifer McFarland explains when asked about the lasting effects of the war, but pain lingers inside. The women speak of losing loved ones in war, of being separated from family members, of uprooting their lives and of terrifying journeys that seemed preferable to a brutal life under communist rule. Of husbands, fathers and brothers asked to report to authorities for 10 days only to disappear into prison for years and returned on the brink of death. Of possessions and money taken. Of knowing they might encounter rape or death at sea. Instead, the boat Le Pham was on with 157 others encountered pirates – three times. The first stole all their goods. The second tried to steal more. The third, frustrated, rammed their boat so they would sink and die. Everyone on board had had enough. They fought back and overwhelmed their assailants, seizing the attacking vessel. They sailed into Darwin famous as the refugees who beat the pirates. 'We had to stand up and fight, or we would all die,' Pham says. 'We threw them in the sea.' Outside the Cabravale Senior Citizens Centre, corflutes for Dai Le and Tu Le compete for attention, and a stall selling bahn mi and Vietnamese coffee prepares for lunch. Only a block away is the hustle of Cabramatta market. 'Pho has become part of the national dish,' declares Diana Nguyen, a Melbourne-born actor, comedian and writer who explores her heritage and the influence of the Vietnamese on Australian society. 'We've got too many doctors and pharmacists!' Loading Before the Fall of Saigon, fewer than 2000 people of Vietnamese descent lived in Australia. Today, the number exceeds 300,000 and Vietnamese is the fourth most commonly spoken language. A spokesperson for the Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade said 'deep people-to-people links' supported relations between Australia and Vietnam; the Whitlam government formally established relations with the communist north in 1973 in parallel to the diplomatic mission in the south. 'The Australia-Vietnam relationship has never been stronger,' the spokesperson said. 'Vietnam is one of the fastest-growing economies in the region and a major hub for manufacturing and investment. It is an active player in regional and global affairs, and a key partner for Australia.' The Bishop of Parramatta, Vincent Long Van Nguyen, says Vietnam today is a long way from an inclusive and just society and this worries members of the diaspora. Haunted by memories of the Tet Offensive in 1968, he recalls his family bundling everything up and fleeing their home north of Saigon in 1975. 'We left our country of birth, but we still have a stake, an interest in the kind of society it is shaping up to be, and unfortunately, for me, Vietnam is still divided,' he said. After his brief stint on the fishing vessel, Luu was detained at the home of the trawler captain near the Thai port of Samut Sakhon. Within a week, he had talked a policeman into taking him to Bangkok and finding the nearest telex machine. 'I sent a cable … I said, 'I survived, and I'm in Thailand.'' Luu flew to Sydney and after reuniting with his family was invited to Parliament House for tea with Kim Beazley snr, then the education minister. 'The first words that he said to me will stay with me forever,' Luu says. 'He shook my hand and said, 'Quang, welcome home.' It's so moving. I was then a refugee, not a diplomat any more.' The Fraser government reversed the Whitlam-era policy of not accepting Vietnamese refugees, and an era of multiculturalism began. A long-time advocate for refugee rights and for 16 years the head of SBS radio, Luu is proud that his adopted country has accepted him but credits the success of multiculturalism to those who worked hard to fit in. 'Had the Vietnamese settlement failed then I would not think that multiculturalism would have continued,' Luu says. 'The fact that multiculturalism was strengthened was because of the successful settlement of Vietnamese in Australia.' Al Chi Hoang has not been back to Vietnam in the 42 years since he fled, but it has never left him. Family members born in the north were killed as they fled south in 1954 when the country was torn in two. Later he was drafted into the Army of the Republic of Vietnam for 'the most controversial war in the last century'. At 19, dreams of honing his English skills and becoming a teacher were on hold, and he was taught to be an officer. Australian troops were withdrawing in 1972, just as Hoang graduated as a second lieutenant and was choppered into a 66-day siege at An Loc. One night he was shot in the leg. He later received a wound to the stomach. 'That's the reason why I lived,' he figures, as he was given rare permission to be evacuated from the front. 'If I stayed back I'm not sure I'd be able to talk to you now.' By April 1975, he was leading a platoon about 50 kilometres outside Saigon and preparing for his next job at the military language school: 'We did not think we were going to lose.' On April 30, he inspected the troops and went about the day as usual until he received a call shortly after noon from the bodyguard of his commanding general. The general was among several who killed themselves as the southern capital had been overrun. Hoang and his men tried to fight on and, with their wives, took refuge in a Catholic Church overnight. As they prepared for battle the following day, a young priest intervened: 'Listen, lieutenant, they've all surrendered.' The platoon members discarded their uniforms and went their own ways. Hoang walked about 30 kilometres south to the home of his aunt, who had become rich supplying bars but whose fortunes changed dramatically under communist rule. 'It was terrible, no life. They controlled everything.' Unable to escape, Hoang spent the next seven years rotating through re-education camps including a total of two years in solitary confinement. 'And I challenged them: 'If you are doing good then you don't have to educate me.'' He never stopped arguing, even as his weight plunged to about 40 kilograms and his two daily spoonfuls of rice included pebbles. His ordeal came to a sudden end when the Reagan administration reached a deal to resettle up to 100,000 prisoners. He was released in August 1982, slipped supervision and made his way by boat to a camp in Malaysia. Seven months there gave him 'a lot of time to think'. He thought of the parents and siblings and nephews killed, not only in the war but at sea trying to escape; a sister had made it to Australia and a nephew was born in Singapore. He thought of how, in the chaos before the collapse, a girlfriend had taken him to a fortune-teller who said he would achieve his dream 'in a very far, very distant place in your midlife'. He thought of how the US had abandoned South Vietnam and his fellow soldiers. He admits he was bitter. 'I didn't hate them, I never hated them, but I thought the way they handled Vietnam was wrong, definitely wrong,' he says. 'I thought they knew that too, but whether they learnt their lesson or not I'm not sure: under Trump I don't know.' He was determined to reach Australia. When he saw a US officer processing refugees, he made sure his papers were stamped 'denied' so he could reach the country of his choice. Salty winter air greeted him at the Endeavour hostel in South Coogee in July 1983. A single man with English skills, he picked up odd jobs. One day, while absorbed in The Sydney Morning Herald, a colleague suggested he should return to study. He finished law school and became a solicitor as he neared 50; it coincided with the need for an operation. 'Even my wife said, 'You're nearly finished.'' Now aged 'towards 73' and surrounded by the evidence of the life he built – piles of work, books on the war, mementos of travel and the toys and debris that come with a grandchild – Hoang skips quickly from subject to subject as if lingering on one thought is too difficult. He does emphasise a desire for democracy in Vietnam, saying it is why he has never returned. 'We always choose freedom.' Diana Nguyen grew up as cultures clashed. Born in Melbourne in 1985, she is the eldest daughter of refugees who met at the Enterprise hostel in Springvale. In primary school she witnessed the drug epidemic that gripped the Vietnamese Australian community. At nine, her parents split, and she was roped into helping raise her younger sisters. As a teenager, she was on the receiving end of disappointment and anger from her mother, Huong. 'How dare you not listen to me, I came here by boat,' was a common complaint by Huong, who was not alone in having difficulty adjusting to Australian life. Bishop Vincent describes his 16 months in a Malaysian refugee camp as traumatic and says beginning a new life in a strange country was harrowing. 'You came totally unprepared and in a state of extreme vulnerability, if you like, with no family network, no preparation, training, economic means etc,' he said. 'Plus Australia was not yet as ethnically diverse as it is today. I think we came in the shadow of the White Australia policy.' It was in Vietnam on a family holiday, when Diana Nguyen was in her mid-twenties, that mother and daughter began to better understand each other. They were packing to leave My Tho, in the Mekong Delta, when Huong opened up about her decision to flee. During the war, Huong was on the ground as a social worker with the United Nations, an educated woman who understood freedom. She knew there was a better life to be had and took to the sea even knowing there was privation and the risk of death ahead. Diana reflects: 'I felt like, 'Wow, mum, why didn't you tell me this earlier, in my teenage years, so I wasn't a shit teenager?'' She laughs that she continues to fall short of her mother's expectation that 'I should get a nine-to-five job so that I can have a child', but she is much more forgiving after realising her mother's sacrifices and struggles. 'I can't fault my mum for loving the way she did.' Loading She and her two sisters recorded their mother's story properly, filming the kind of oral history the Vietnamese Museum of Australia will seek to preserve when it opens in Melbourne's west. At the museum's groundbreaking ceremony last month, she was struck by the diversity of faces in the crowd. 'We are Australian, we are Vietnamese Australian, we are no longer the outsider. Unfortunately, any cohort or group that comes to Australia is classified as the outsider until they've done the hard yards. I think we've done the hard yards and we are absolutely in the psyche now, we're inside,' she says. 'I'm just very excited for the future and the next generation of Vietnamese Australians who are going to make their mark on this world.'
Khaleej Times
31-01-2025
- Entertainment
- Khaleej Times
From reopening Notre-Dame de Paris to InClassica 2025 at Dubai Opera
On the December 7, 2024, the world turned its gaze to Paris as the iconic Notre-Dame Cathedral reopened its doors, nearly six years after the devastating fire that threatened one of humanity's most iconic landmarks. Among the star-studded lineup of artists who performed at the historic reopening concert was acclaimed Swedish violinist Daniel Lozakovich, whose emotive performance underscored the event's themes of resilience, unity, and renewal. This unforgettable appearance came just months before Lozakovich is set to take the stage at the 2025 InClassica International Music Festival, where he will be joining an extraordinary roster of musicians who will be gathering in Dubai this coming April for two weeks of high-end classical concerts. For the reopening concert of Notre-Dame, Lozakovich was joined by such luminaries as Yo-Yo Ma, Lang Lang, and Pretty Yende, who all came together to honour the cathedral's restoration with music that echoed its timeless grandeur. The Swedish violinist's performance was a standout moment in an evening filled with artistic brilliance, showcasing his unparalleled ability and inimitable talent on his instrument, as he captivated millions watching across Paris and all over the world. "It's an honour to be part of the reopening of the historic Notre-Dame Cathedral', Lozakovich said, 'a place of deep cultural and spiritual significance. Performing alongside Maestro Gustavo Dudamel and Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France in this sacred church is a moment I will always cherish.' As the world continues to celebrate Lozakovich's stirring performance at Notre-Dame, anticipation is now building for his upcoming appearance at the InClassica 2025. The festival, renowned for its stellar lineup of world-class musicians, will see Lozakovich performing as one of its featured soloists in not one, but two of its concerts, showcasing his artistry with audiences in the UAE's most populous city. The violinist shall be teaming up with legendary pianist and conductor Mikhail Pletnev on both occasions, giving classical music lovers the rare opportunity to witness such celebrated maestros in live performance together. For their first collaboration, on the 12th of April, Pletnev will be taking on the role of conductor, leading the Franz Schubert Filharmonia as they accompany Lozakovich in performances of works from the pen of Composer-in-Residence Alexey Shor, while also presenting a piece written by Pletnev himself. The second entry, meanwhile, will see the duo taking over InClassica's stage as they close off the festival on April 21st with a recital featuring seminal works from Franz Schubert, Edvard Grieg, and César Franck, as well as a special collaborative composition created jointly by Pletnev and Shor. Lozakovich, who has had the chance to perform music by Shor before, spoke fondly of this experience, noting that 'Shor's music is very lyrical, which is rare for modern music. I am very glad that there are such people who can write such beautiful music and that I can play it; it inspires me, and I'm really honoured that there are people like Alexey Shor and, of course, Maestro Pletnev who are willing to dedicate themselves to the music world in this way'. InClassica 2025 marks the festival's 14th edition and promises to be a celebration of classical music on a grand scale. Lozakovich's involvement in these two monumental events speaks to his role as a global ambassador for classical music, and underscores his commitment to using his art to inspire and unite. With a career already marked by extraordinary achievements, his presence continues to reaffirm his place among the most exciting musicians of our time, and it is with an eager heart that audiences around the world are now looking to witness the next chapter of his remarkable journey this coming April. For more information about Lozakovich's appearances at the 2025 InClassica International Music Festival, make sure to visit
